


Don't Come Knocking at My Door

by fiddleyoumust



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:50:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry pays a late night visit to Nick after they've broken up. There's angst and sex. The end. </p>
<p>There's unprotected sex here, so if that's a line for you you've been warned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Come Knocking at My Door

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most melodramatic, self-indulgent angstfest ever. I have a problem. Sorry!
> 
> Thanks to thediamondskies and blueandbrady for looking this over for me! All remaining mistakes are my own.

Harry feels like a bit of a stalker sitting in the dark of his car, engine idling and his mobile balanced on his knee while he shoots Lou a text message. He debates whether he should tell her the truth, that he’s safely in London, that he’s not driving back from Holmes Chapel in the middle of the night on minimal sleep, but is planning to do something equally stupid instead. 

He decides on, _Coming in late. Don’t wait up._ , and hits send. He sits and listens to the hum of the engine while he waits for a response.

_Be careful love. Pull over if you’re tired. Car’s picking you up at 7,_ comes Lou’s response.

Harry takes a deep breath, turns of the engine, and heads toward Nick’s building.

Nick’s porch light is off and the small window by the front door is dark. It’s only 10:30, but Harry’s pretty sure Nick’s only just gotten home from California today, and he’s got the show in the morning at any rate. Early nights are sort of a given with Nick these days.

Harry rings the bell and waits, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while he rocks back on the heels of his boots.

The porch light comes on and there’s a moment before Harry hears the bolt turn and the hinges on the door squeak open.

“Hiya,” Harry says.

It’s been a month exactly since they’ve seen one another, since Nick sat Harry down on the sofa and talked about all the things in their way, all the things that kept them from giving their relationship a proper go. Harry had agreed even though he hadn’t wanted to. Both of their lives are sort of ridiculous right now and no amount of wishing or wanting makes anything between them more manageable.

“It’s late,” Nick says warily.

Harry remembers a time when, no matter how late it was, Nick would have smiled and opened the door wide to invite him in, kissed his mouth enthusiastically, offered him a glass of whatever wine he had open, and then taken him to bed.

It hurts to know that won’t happen anymore, but Harry’s heart already feels like a punching bag. What’s one more hit going to matter at the end of the day?

Harry doesn’t have any tricks. Nick might ask him to leave and Harry will go with his tail between his legs and the sting of bitterness in his mouth. He’s hoping Nick won’t ask.

“I’m going to L.A. tomorrow,” Harry says. “We’re doing some recording before Europe.”

Nick leans against the door frame and says, “I just got back. Weather’s lovely right now if they let you out of the studio at all.”

“Funny that if our schedules had been just a bit different we might’ve been there at the same time,” Harry says.

It’s not really funny at all. Their schedules were on the list of “things” Nick mentioned when he broke it off. Harry sometimes feels guilty for wanting too much, for having so much and still wanting more of Nick’s time and more of Nick’s love and more of the two of them together than either of their schedules ever allowed. 

“We’re ships passing in the night, popstar.”

Harry licks his lips and steps a little closer because he can live with the hurt and the guilt if Nick will just give him whatever he can, whatever tiny bit of affection Nick might still have for him.

“We’re both here now,” Harry says.

Nick twists his fingers in his hair. It’s shorter than the last time Harry saw him, and Nick looks like he’s still trying to get used to it too, his fingers twisting around nothing where his quiff used to be. His hand falls away and grabs onto the door, pushing it open and stepping aside to let Harry in.

“This is a horrible idea,” Nick says but he’s grabbing for Harry with one hand while he reaches back with the other to twist the lock on the door back into place.

Harry steps into Nick’s space and kisses him, wrapping his hands around the back of Nick’s neck so his fingers brush through the ends of his hair. Harry kisses him like it’s the last time he’s going to get to do it, which maybe it is. Maybe he’ll never have this again. He wants to make it count the way he didn’t the last time they were together, when he still thought he could get away with wanting too much forever.

Nick kisses him back, his wide-mouth warm and hard and a little bit painful. It’s a good kind of hurt. Harry wants to feel it. He wants Nick to leave bruises, to make his lip bleed, to hurt him so maybe tomorrow he’ll have something to focus on besides the dull ache in his chest.

Nick starts backing them toward the sofa, but the last time Harry sat on it Nick told him he didn’t want to do this anymore, that he didn’t want Harry enough to deal with fans and paps and media and the long stretches of time when they couldn’t be together. 

Harry hates that bloody sofa. He hates that he’s still in love with Nick, that he can’t stop even after Nick made it clear he didn’t feel the same way. Maybe he hates Nick too, for kissing him tonight when he should have sent him away, even if it is exactly what Harry came looking for.

“Take me to bed,” Harry says, circling Nick’s wrist with his hand and stepping away to pull him down the hall. He’s not letting Nick fuck him on that sofa, but the bedroom only has good memories of the two of them spooned together under the covers half watching the telly and half scrolling through Twitter on their phones, or hot and breathless, stuck together with come and sweat, fingers tangled in each other’s hair.

Nick is uncharacteristically quiet as they make their way down the hall. The only time Nick is ever quiet is when he’s sleeping, but he’s not full of his usual banter tonight. Harry doesn’t mind. He’s afraid if Nick starts talking he’ll tell Harry they should stop, that Harry should go home to Lou and Tom and get in a solid 6 hours of sleep before his flight tomorrow. 

Harry doesn’t want to sleep. 

In the bedroom, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and slides his trousers and pants off before climbing on the bed. He lies on his back and watches Nick watch him. Nick’s still got on the boxers and thin t-shirt he went to bed in.

“Should I start without you?” Harry asks, licking his palm before wrapping his hand around his cock.

Nick shakes his head and finally starts moving to take his clothes off. Harry watches him and sighs when Nick doesn’t waste any time crawling up the length of Harry’s body. He slaps Harry’s hand away from his cock and presses Harry’s wrists into the mattress as he leans down to kiss him.

Harry surges up as much as he can with Nick’s weight pinning him down. Their mouths knock together, their teeth clicking painfully, but Harry just moans into it and kisses Nick harder. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” Harry gasps when Nick finally pulls away to let him breathe. “Want to be able to feel you tomorrow.”

Nick groans and kisses him again, wet and messy, scraping his teeth over Harry’s bottom lip before he lets go of Harry’s wrists to lean over and get supplies from the bedside table drawer. Harry follows his movements, watches him pull out the bottle of lube and then hesitate a moment before he pulls out a condom as well. He doesn’t know if it’s because Nick thinks Harry’s been with other people since they broke it off or because Nick has. He wants to ask, but he’s afraid of Nick’s answer. More than that he’s terrified of how Nick’s answer wouldn’t really matter. Harry would let Nick fuck him without a condom anyway.

Harry’s never been this messed up over someone before. He’s never wanted someone like this, and it burns that Nick doesn’t want him back, that Nick doesn’t think he’s worth the effort. Harry wonders who it was for Nick -- the first person who made him feel like this -- and how Nick got over it. Harry doesn’t want to keep wanting like this.

Nick rearranges himself, pushing Harry’s thighs apart and kneeling off to Harry’s left side. It forces Harry to hook his knee around Nick’s body, splaying his legs wide open. Nick slicks up two fingers and doesn’t take his eyes off Harry face as he pushes them into Harry’s body. It feels good. Harry breathes out slowly and closes his eyes, relaxing into it, trusting Nick to get him ready.

He plays with his cock a little while Nick works him open. It’s not enough to get him close, but it feels good. It helps him stop worrying about what Nick’s thinking or how Nick feels about him. 

Harry doesn’t open his eyes until he hears Nick tear into the foil condom wrapper and then he can’t stop himself from saying, “Do it without.”

His heart is beating so fast and so loud that it’s like a ringing in his ears. He waits for Nick to make a decision while all the blood that’s not in his cock rushes to his head.

“This is so bloody stupid,” Nick says, but he drops the condom off the side of the bed, hitches Harry’s thighs up around his waist, and pushes into Harry’s body in one smooth thrust.

Harry feels like he’s choking, like he’s got something pressing down on his ribs and he can’t breathe around the crushing force of it. Nick leans in and kisses him through it and Harry thinks wildly that if this is what drowning is like it’s not such a bad way to go.

Nick fucks him hard, bends him nearly in half and kisses him over and over while Harry scratches at Nick’s shoulders and the back of his neck. 

“Do yourself,” Nick says. “I want to feel it.”

Harry slides a hand between them and wanks himself hard and fast. His orgasm _hurts_ when it finally comes. He tries to curl up and away, but Nick has him trapped between the mattress and his cock still buried in Harry’s arse. There’s nowhere for Harry to go so he clings limply to Nick while he fucks Harry through it. Nick’s never gone easy on him, but the way he’s fucking him now feels different, almost like punishment. Harry can’t figure out who Nick is trying to hurt though.

When Nick finally comes it’s with a pained noise that he muffles against Harry’s neck. He collapses on top of Harry and takes big gasping breaths before pulling out and rolling away. They lie side-by-side while their sweat cools and turns their skin sticky. Harry reaches down and rubs the pad of his thumb over his hole where Nick’s come is slick and wet.

Harry sighs and says, “Should I go?”

Nick shakes his head and kisses Harry’s forehead.

“Let’s shower,” he says.

Harry’s sore and tired and Nick’s jet lagged so they’re barely standing when they stumble back into the room ten minutes later naked and wet.

“These sheets are disgusting. Getting in them is probably going to make our shower pointless,” Nick says.

Harry can’t be arsed to care. He’s so tired he thinks he could probably fall asleep standing up.

“Wait,” Nick shrieks and it’s so like how he used to be around Harry that Harry can’t help laughing. Nick pushes Harry away from the bed and pulls the bottom sheet off before spreading the top sheet over the mattress and crawling onto the bed. Harry follows and Nick pulls the cover over both of them.

Harry rests his head on Nick’s chest and drapes his limbs over him like a second blanket. He’s almost asleep when Nick asks, “What time do you need to be up tomorrow?”

“Car’s at 7 at Lou’s,” Harry slurs. “I’ll get up with you.”

Nick grunts and strokes his hand down Harry’s back.

“You know this doesn’t change anything, right?” Nick asks.

And for a moment Harry had forgotten. For a moment he’d felt safe and warm and everything had been so familiar that he’d forgotten Nick didn’t want him anymore.

“I know,” Harry says.

“You’re still leaving tomorrow,” Nick says, his voice going tight the way it does when he’s sure he’s right about something and everyone is disagreeing with him.

Harry lifts his head and looks at Nick’s face, barely visible in the dark of the room. He looks sad and Harry can’t stand it so he kisses his chin and says, “But I’ll be back.”

“And then Europe,” Nick says. “And America after that.”

Harry kisses his mouth and says, “I’ll be back after that too.”

“And Australia and Japan and wherever you go after that,” Nick says. “It’s impossible, Harry. We talked about all of this when you were home last month.”

Harry sighs and rests his head back on Nick’s chest. He doesn’t want to fight with Nick, but he’s willing to fight for him if he has to.

“Do you want me?” Harry asks. “Because if you’re waiting for me, I’ll always come back.”

Nick’s arms tighten around him for a brief moment and he’s quiet for so long that when he finally speaks, Harry jumps from the sound of his voice in the quiet room.

“I want you,” Nick says. “I always want you. That’s sort of the problem.”

Harry gets it. He feels like he’s being torn apart every time he leaves Nick. He loves his job. He’s living his dream, but being with Nick is everything he never knew he wanted. 

“I’ll be back Saturday,” Harry says. “I’ll have a day or two before we go to Europe. I could come around if you wanted me to.”

Nick pulls him closer, breathes into Harry’s damp hair and says, “I’ll be waiting.”


End file.
